One By One
by Avada Cruimperio
Summary: Summer in Newport is boring. Marissa wishes something would happen. How about a mass murderer on the loose, bent on killing her friends and family? Summer in Newport is about to be shaken up a bit.
1. The First

**A/N: Hi! Many of you know me from my story, The Difference… well I'm warning you now: THIS STORY IS DARK! TD isn't that dark, but this story is. It's a horror. What did you expect? A fluffy horror? I can't even do that. PEOPLE SHALL (probably) DIE IN THIS STORY. It may have a happy ending, it may not. For pairing's, we have S/S and R/M (duh. It's one of my stories.), and I think I'm gonna have Marissa be heroine. Review and tell me if you like it! Thanks. This is sort of AU (alternate universe, or something like that, for those of you who don't know). Summer, Seth, Ryan, and Marissa are like, eighteen or nineteen now. This is their summer going into freshman year at college. Remember, this is AU. Did Marissa shoot Trey? Did Caleb die? Did Theresa get pregnant? The answer to all of these, and more is _no._ Most things that happened in the second season didn't happen. Therefore, if you see, say, Jimmy and Julie still married (which you will), don't review and be all "dude, they broke up." Not anymore, they didn't. But do review. You know I love it when you review. Also, another thing about AUness: if this goes against the laws of science: too bad! Just remember that and don't review me and say, "This couldn't have happened, that's not possible." Too. Flipping. Bad.**

Marissa sat in her room, twirling a lock of hair around her finger. She was bored. Big shock there. This summer ranked number one on her list of The Most Boring Summers In Newport Beach Ever. Nothing exciting ever happened, for once. She was beginning to wish someone would get eaten by a shark, or something, just for the sake of something actually _happening_ around here. When Ryan had suggested that they and Seth and Summer go out to eat dinner somewhere that didn't cook their fries in ten pounds of grease, she had jumped for joy.

Someone, probably Summer, had suggested that they go somewhere fancy, white tablecloth and the works. Marissa had seconded it, and the guys grudgingly agreed.

So here she sat on her couch, her hair in curls, her nails manicured, and her body in a gorgeous pink spaghetti-strap dress she had found for only a hundred and seven dollars, waiting for her boyfriend to pick her up.

She was startled when the doorbell rang.

"Goodbye, Mother," she said, grabbing her purse.

"Bye, Marissa," Julie called, having missed the sarcasm in her daughter's voice. "Be home by eleven!"

"Whatever," she groaned.

"And don't slam the-" She was interrupted by the sound of Marissa slamming the door as hard as she could.

"Door."

**Oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo**

Ryan and Marissa arrived at the restaurant at seven forty-five. As soon as they spotted their friends, they hurried over. Seth looked uncomfortable sitting next to some old prune with no teeth blathering on about her eight grandchildren.

"Hey, Marissa, Ryan!" he exclaimed, glad to finally shut the old biddy up. "You're-"

He stopped short, looking at Marissa. "Oh no," he said. "Not you, too?"

He motioned towards Summer, who was sitting on his right. She was wearing an expensive-looking blue silk dress. "I thought you said we weren't going all out on the clothes!"

Ryan sat down next to his friend, the old lady had left. "I didn't know, either," he said, glancing over at his girlfriend, who was animatedly discussing fashion with Summer. "At least we're not in tuxes."

Their name ("Cohen, part of four!") was announced over the P.A. system, and the hostess showed the to their seats.

Seth's eyes bugged out of his head as he stared at the price menu. "Twenty bucks for a steak?" he asked, his voice loud.

"Shh!" Summer poked him. "It's expensive, yeah. But the food is really good."

A waitress came by their table.

"Hello, I'm Marie, I'll be your waitress today. Can I get you guys anything to drink?"

"Do you guys have Pepsi?" Seth asked hopefully.

The waitress sneered at him.

"Four waters," Summer said.

"Right away."

However, 'right away' may have been an exaggeration, as the group waited twenty minutes, and no water came (neither did the waitress).

"This is ridiculous," Summer snapped. "I'm going to go in there and give them a piece of my mind."

She stormed off.

"Go where?" Seth turned to Ryan.

He shrugged. "No idea, man."

**Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo**

Summer barged through the door into the kitchen.

"_Que? Vous n'êtes pas permis dans ici_!" a chef shouted at her.

"Whatever. Listen, I have been waiting _twenty minutes_ for four damn glasses of water, and I want them now!"

"_Je ne parle pas l'anglais. Ou parler le français ou sortir de ma cuisine, vous la petite chienne_!"

She brushed past him, in search of a sink or someone that spoke English.

She found both. A busboy was filling up glasses of water, his back to her, muttering something under a vaguely familiar breath that sounded like "she's finally here, oh when I get my hands on her I'll kill that bitch!"

"Excuse me?" Summer said, tapping him on the shoulder. "Four waters, please."

He stopped his ramblings and filled up four waters, looking for ice to fill them up with, but only finding one cube. He put it in one of the glasses.

"Thanks," she said, as he turned around to hand her the waters. A look of recognition, and horror filled her face.

Her eyes widened, and she snatched the water and hurried from the kitchen, back to their seats.

"Oh, my God. Oh, my God." Summer sat down, and passed the drinks to everyone, keeping the one with ice for herself. "Coop, oh, God, oh holy shit, oh God-"

"Sum! Calm down, what's wrong?"

"I- he- ki-d-" The words tripped over each other as she rushed to explain.

"Take a drink, calm down," Marissa said.

Summer took a sip of her water, and breathed in for a moment.

"Okay," she began.

But she never finished her sentence.

After that one word, Summer's face went rigid, and her body went pale. She fell out of her seat, eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling.

Marissa screamed.

Seth rushed out of his seat and grabbed her hand.

"Oh, my God," he said hoarsely.

"What?" Marissa asked shakily.

"No pulse."

A woman rushed over to them. "I'm a nurse, I work at the hospital, let me see her."

The lady examined her for about fifteen seconds, and shook her head. "Oh, God."

"Should we call an ambulance?" Ryan asked.

"Won't need to. She's dead."

**A/N: Sooo, what'dja think? Did ya like it? Did it suck? Don't cliffhangers stink? Who do you think the guy in the restaurant was? Do you guys know what the French dude said? According to my Free Translation, the first thing (_Que? Vous n'êtes pas permis dans ici!_) means "What! You're not allowed in here!" and _Je ne parle pas l'anglais. Ou parler le français ou sortir de ma cuisine, vous la petite chienne _means "I do not speak English. Either speak French or get out of my kitchen, you little bitch." Tee hee. Also: Read my story "The Difference". It's good! Review!**


	2. The Second

**A/N: I'm sorry if the last chapter (or my French: damn you, free translations!) confused anyone. If Summer's death confused you, it would help to read (or re-read) the summary I put up. For those of you, like me, who are too lazy to go find the summary, here it is:** Summer in Newport is boring. Marissa wishes something would happen. How about a mass murderer on the loose, bent on killing her and her friends and family? Summer in Newport is about to be shaken up a bit. **Does that clear it up a bit? No? My apologies.**

**Also, Seth's line "I swear to drunk I'm not God," is dedicated to my friend Becca. Good times, good times…**

He slammed his fist into the wall. Damn it, that nosy friend of hers had ruined _everything_. Marissa should have drank that water: in fact, he had it all planned out. He was going to "forget" their drinks, put extra extra extra salt in whatever she had ordered, and _then_ deliver one drink: the water with the poisoned ice cube. She'd be so thirty she'd drink it right up. But no, that nosy bitch had to have come in and screw it all up. He honestly had no idea why he had put the poison in the drink: he should have realized that without following the rest of the plan (i.e., the salt in the food), it wouldn't work. Anyone could have drunk that water. There was no guarantee that Marissa would have. He hadn't meant for anyone but Marissa to be involved, this screwed it all up.

Wait. Or did it?

If Marissa had died on this spot, her friends and family would be suspicious. They would have field an investigation at the restaurant, and it soon would be discovered that he was one of the few (if not the only) working there with a criminal record.

Maybe this could be good. Better than good. Great. The flaw in his plan had been fixed.

The only thing left to do was to figure out how to kill the rest of them…

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Summer's funeral was the most horrible thing Marissa had ever seen in her life. She could only watch as the minister said a prayer as they lowered her best friend in the world into the ground.

She could only imagine how hard it was for Seth. She was more than a friend to him, they were in love. Marissa knew that for her, eventually the pain would recede, and Summer wouldn't be the only the on her mind, all day and all night.

But for Seth, the pain would never go away. Every day, he would wake up and realize that he would never see the love of his life again. Marissa didn't know what she would do if she ever lost Ryan. He was there, right now, next to her, holding her hand. She didn't realize she was crying until Ryan handed her a tissue.

But her face was not the only one that tears were falling down. Seth was crying, too.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

After the funeral, Seth had nothing left. Nothing left to do, and nothing left to live for.

He wandered around, not noticing where his feet were taking him, until someone spoke. "You lost there, son?"

He looked up. He had walked into a bar, and the tender was talking to him.

He shrugged.

"You look depressed," the bartender continued.

Seth laughed hollowly. "That's one way to put it."

He poured Seth a drink. "It'll cheer you up."

"Nothing'll cheer me up." Seth retorted, but he took a seat at the counter anyways.

"Drink it. It won't hurt you."

"But I'm not twen-" He stopped. For once in his life, he had the opportunity to get alcohol without being I.D'd, and this was not the time to refuse the offer.

He cautiously lifted the glass, and took a small sip.

The world did not come crashing down. The sky did not fall in. There weren't any holes in the earth, and as far as Seth could see, there wasn't a wall of fire.

He did not die from illegal drinking. The teachers at school _had_ been lying since fifth grade.

He took another sip. And another. And another. In fifteen seconds, the glass was empty, and the bartender quickly refilled it.

By his eighth drink, he was more than a little bit tipsy. He didn't notice when someone came out of the bar, and took over for the bartender, or when the new tender poured him something with a considerable amount more alcohol.

"Want to try a shot?" the bartender asked after Seth's fifteenth glass.

"Thanks no, drinking done I am," he slurred.

"You alright there?" someone asked. "Have you had a little too much beer?"

"I swear to drunk I'm not God."

He reached out for the glass, missing several times. It was smaller than the last fifteen had been.

"Wowwy, the glass is shrinking. Looky there!" Seth garbled.

"Drink it really fast," the tender advised.

"Whatever you say, Daddy!" Seth said, drinking the shot.

After fifteen drinks and six shots, Seth was completely smashed. "One more, one more, thassit," he said, groping for his final shot.

He raised it high, and poured it into his mouth.

He stayed perfectly still for ten seconds.

The next thing anyone knew, he had fallen off the stool, and had turned ash-white.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"Mr. Cohen? Mrs. Cohen?" the nurse called.

They anxiously stood up. "Is Seth all right?" Kirsten asked.

"I'm afraid I have some bad news for you. Seth has passed on."

"What? How? You all said he'd be fine."

"We weren't sure, Mrs. Cohen. We thought he could make it, but after twenty-one drinks, his liver was shot. It was alcohol poisoning."

Sandy ran his fingers through his hair. "No. No. You're lying. Seth's here. He's in the room, right down the hall. We saw him! He was alive!"

"I'm sorry."

Ryan and Marissa had been listening from across the room. They saw a nurse approach the Cohen's, and by their expressions, they could tell what had happened.

"Oh, no." Marissa whispered.

"Do you think-" Ryan asked.

"I don't want to."

"But do you?"

"Do I think he's… gone?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Yeah."

Ryan exhaled loudly. "What the hell is going on here?"

"What?"

"First Summer, now Seth. What's gonna happen next?"

"I don't know," she said quietly.

"Do you think… maybe… I don't know… but maybe it wasn't a coincidence."

"You think maybe… someone's out to get us? Is that what you're saying?"

"I don't know."

Marissa laughed. "That's ridiculous."

"Maybe it is. But maybe it isn't."

**A/N: Sorry if this depressed you all. If you have a clue of what's_ really_ going on, review and let me know. I want to see if anyone's caught one yet. Even if you have no idea where the hell I'm going with this, still review, please.**

**Also. To be honest, currently I'm prioritizing my other story, The Difference, over this, but that could change easily. But it will probably take longer to update this than it does for that.**

**Review!  
**


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